The Last Two Standing
by Hebridean Black
Summary: Harry and Draco have been bitter rivals since they met when they were eleven. Fate brings them together unexpectedly shortly after the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts. Can they overcome their differences and work together? Written before book 7.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Draco woke in total darkness. With typical Slytherin caution, he remained motionless as he assessed the uncertain situation. He was laying on something very hard and cold; definitely not his bed. There was a light cloth covering his face although it was not heavy enough to hinder his breathing. The faint echo of a persistent drip-drip-drip nearby indicated that he was inside and that the room was quite large but not well kept. There was no rustle of clothes, no creak of furniture moving, and no hint of breathing to indicate that anyone else was present.

Even though he was most likely alone, Draco moved only slightly at first. Twitching his fingers along the smooth surface he was lying on, he decided that his current resting place was made of polished stone. Lifting his hand a bit, he slid it along the underside of the cloth covering him. The material was rougher than his usually bed linen.

Emboldened by the continued lack of sound, Draco carefully raised a hand to push aside the cloth that covered his face. However, even with the cloth removed, the room remained as dark as before. When he attempted to sit up, Draco bumped his head against something hard above him. Using his hands as a guide, Draco discovered that he had hit his head against a rock shelf a few inches thick, polished on the top, but rough on the edge and underside. Further searching proved that Draco was sitting on a shelf similar to the one above him.

As his fingers traced the edge of the shelf he was sitting on, he discovered symbols carved into the stone. Slowly he traced out the letters that spelled his name followed by his date of birth then a more recent date. With a growing sense of dread, Draco stood and traced the symbols on the ledge above his. His breath came in short gasps as he traced out his grandfather's name. Trembling slightly, Draco ran a hand along the ledge until he found a cloth similar to the one that had covered him. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, Draco reached further back. He shuddered as he found that which he had feared; the cold, stiff body of a well-preserved corpse.

Aghast, Draco realized that he had been entombed in the family mausoleum. Sliding back down to sit on his shelf, Draco forced himself to ponder the situation rationally. His parents would not have placed him in the family tomb unless they believed he was dead, would they? Could they have been mistaken? While his mother may not have had many dealings with corpses, his father had certainly killed enough people to recognize the difference between the living and the dead.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as a sudden memory intruded on his musings; his mother staring lifelessly at him as she lay beside him on the floor.

Choking back a sob, Draco stood and frantically began tracing the edges of the shelves until he found the one he had hoped would not exist; Narcissa Black Malfoy. He slowly felt for the shroud's edge then pulled it back to gently touch his mother's face. Her skin was unnaturally stiff and cold, but her hair was as silky as he remembered from his childhood. He laid his forehead against his mother's shoulder while tears streamed down his face. She had risked the Dark Lord's wrath to protect him and had died for her temerity while his father…

Draco's tears slowly ceased as anger took the place of grief. The memory of those last fateful moments returned in full. The Dark Lord had ordered Lucius to punish Draco for failing once again to satisfactorily complete an assignment. While the command may have been the Dark Lord's, Draco's father had cast the curses that left Draco convulsing on the floor. His mother had begged them to stop then finally threw herself over Draco's body. The pain from the curse had ceased for only seconds before Draco heard his father shout the words, _'Avada Kedavra_!'. There was a bright, green light then someone had pushed Draco's mother roughly to the side. After his mother's futile sacrifice, the curses had continued until Draco could feel his body shutting down to escape the agony. As his vision had begun to fade, he clearly remembered hearing his father say the Killing Curse once again.

That was Draco's last memory before waking up here. Was he dead? Was he a ghost? He felt too substantial to be incorporeal. His hands connected quite firmly with the stone around him. In fact, his head had connected so well with the shelf above his that Draco was sure he would have a bruise. Surely, ghosts did not suffer such indignities. Satisfied with his logic, Draco felt justified in concluding that he was not a ghost.

He might possibly be an Inferius, but that did not seem feasible either. The Inferi were mindlessly animated corpses and his mind felt intact and uncontrolled by another. In fact, Draco did not feel the least bit dead. His muscles were a bit sore, but overall he felt quite fit.

Perhaps his father and the Dark Lord had been so confident that the Killing Curse would work that they had not checked that Draco was actually dead. There had been one other who had survived the Killing Curse, even if how it was done had never been explained.

Staring into the darkness as he mulled over the situation, Draco decided that the answer to why he was here was not nearly as important as how to extradite himself from his predicament. The doors to the family mausoleum were warded against entry and, consequently, also against departure. Without a wand, Draco could not remove the wards and was trapped with only the dead to keep him company.

Joe stared in frustration at the setting sun from his table by the inn window. So far, the local Constabulary had no leads on where MacLeod had disappeared.

While it was not odd for Mac to go off by himself without telling anyone, he would not have sent his horse back without him. Mac would know that a horse returning without a rider would be the cause of concern. Not only was Joe worried, but Rachel, a distant relative of Mac's, was alarmed as well.

In his role as MacLeod's Watcher, Joe had often faced the possibility that he would be the one to close the file that chronicled the immortal's life. As Mac's friend, he hoped that he did not live to see that day. Methos often said that even the most skilled immortal was bound to have an off day on occasion. It was unfortunate that having an off day for an immortal most likely meant death by decapitation.

"Joe, this is Inspector Stewart with the Northern Constabulary," Rachel said as she approached. "Inspector, this is Joe Dawson. He and Duncan are friends."

The two men exchanged greetings then the inspector motioned for them to sit. "What brings you to Scotland, Mr. Dawson?"

"Mac wanted to visit Rachel," Joe said. "I needed a vacation so I tagged along." Joe wondered if he would have seen as much of the world as he had if he had not followed Mac so many times in the past. At least this time, it had been by invitation.

"Any idea who Mr. MacLeod would have been meeting at the grave site?" Stewart asked.

"All he said this morning was that he was going for a ride and would be back before sunset," Joe said.

"Then he didn't come here to meet someone," Stewart pressed.

"The only person he's mentioned knowing here is Rachel," Joe answered. "Are you saying that he ran into someone out in the woods?"

"There is always that possibility," Stewart said and then glanced outside at the setting sun. "The dogs are on the way. Hopefully, they'll be able to find something we've missed." Stewart looked back at Joe. "You'll be staying on, Mr. Dawson?"

"I'm not leaving until Mac's found," Joe replied.

The inspector nodded and promised to inform them as soon as he knew anything.

"What was that all about?" Joe asked Rachel after the inspector left.

"The tracker found signs that Duncan had met someone near the graves," Rachel said softly. "There's no way to know if it was planned or accidental, so they're checking both possibilities."

Another man walked over to join them, setting down a round of drinks. "This one be just like the last two. Gone without a trace."

Rachel introduced Joe to Ian MacLeod, the man who backtracked the horse after it had returned.

"What do you mean, 'like the last two'? There have been other disappearances?" Joe asked.

"Aye, that there have. One gone camping, never returned. Found his campsite all set up, but no one there. Second one gone hunting. Found his rifle, but nary a sign of the hunter," Ian replied.

"Could it be some sort of animal?" Joe asked.

"An animal would leave tracks," Ian said. "All three cases, it be the same. Tracks just stop, like the men disappeared into thin air."

"That's not possible. They had to go somewhere," Joe protested.

"There be talk that it be like it was before - when the ones in masks came. Is said they could kill by looking at you and they could disappear like smoke."

"That's a bunch of old man's talk, Ian MacLeod," Rachel chided. "You shouldn't be spreading such fairy tales."

While Ian and Rachel argued over the merits of Ian's tall tale, Joe tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together in some way that made sense, but failed. It was apparent that the local police had no idea what was happening either. Despite all his years as a Watcher, Joe realized that he was out of his depth. There was only one person he knew that might have the knowledge to deal with a situation like this. Someone who had centuries of experience at disappearing without a trace.

MacLeod staggered as his captor shoved him into the dimly lit room. With his arms bound, he was unable to cushion his fall and landed with a grunt on his side. As he rolled to his knees, MacLeod quickly took note of the five, cloaked men standing around the room before his gaze came to rest on one lounging in an ornate, almost throne-like, chair in front of him. The dim light in the corner, even fainter than the rest of the room, allowed MacLeod to see little of the man other than the black robes that draped around his feet.

"And what is this, Lucius? Have you brought a gift?" the lounging man asked.

"A Muggle, my lord," Lucius responded. "A very, _special_ Muggle."

MacLeod barely refrained from shuddering as the man Lucius addressed as 'my lord' stood and glided toward him. The man's face was something out of a horror movie; completely hairless with red eyes, slits where his nose should be and white, scaly skin. He resembled the snake that slithered around the base of his chair.

"I'm intrigued," purred Snake-face. "What makes this Muggle special, Lucius?"

"I've killed him three times, my lord," Lucius said, "and yet, he is still alive."

"How interesting," Red-eyes said softly.

The last words MacLeod heard before the darkness took him were, "_Avada Kedavra_!".

After casting the Killing Curse, Voldemort gazed thoughtfully at the Muggle for a moment, and then raised a brow as he looked up. "He appears to be quite dead, Lucius," he said in a slightly chiding tone.

"He will not remain that way long," Lucius replied with confidence.

Voldemort swept back to his chair and reseated himself, watching through half-closed eyes as Nagini began to inspect the Muggle's unmoving body. Minutes crawled by with the slight rustle of robes the only sound heard as the Death Eaters shifted nervously where they stood. They all knew that if Lucius failed to back his claim then their lord would be in a foul temper. No one was safe when the Dark Lord raged.

Voldemort was on the verge of reproving Lucius for wasting his time when the Muggle's eyes flew open and he let out a choked gasp.

A predatory light filled Voldemort's red eyes as he rose. "There is only one other to have survived the Killing Curse," he said softly, almost reverently.

"If we could discover the Muggle's secret, my lord, then you could use it to obtain that which you desire," Lucius replied. "As well as destroy Potter once and for all." His tone was contemptuous as he spoke Harry Potter's name, the Boy Who Lived despite the Dark Lord's repeated efforts to kill him.

Voldemort approached the Muggle and slowly circled his prone body. Unable to use his arms as leverage, the Muggle lay on his back as he assessed the situation with narrow eyes.

"What is your name, Muggle?"

MacLeod clenched his teeth as he glared at No-nose. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"Well, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, this is a most amazing skill you have. How is it that you are able to recover from death itself?" Voldemort asked, his tone casually curious, as if asking where Mac had bought his shirt.

MacLeod rapidly concluded that the only thing keeping his head attached was this man's ignorance of immortals. He did not intend to give that advantage away. "Go to hell."

MacLeod jerked his gaze away from Voldemort's cold, red stare. There was something unnerving about the snake-faced man's eyes. It was almost as if he were seeing into MacLeod's soul.

"His mind is quite strong for a Muggle," Voldemort said softly. "I believe we will have to use other means to persuade our guest to share the information I require. Lucius, if you would…"

Lucius smiled coldly and, with a flick of his wand, pinned MacLeod to the wall.

Voldemort strolled to where MacLeod was hanging, unable to move. "I will know your secret, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. And once I have it, I will use it."

Voldemort turned abruptly and stalked back to his chair. "See that our guest remains alert, Lucius," Voldemort instructed with a negligent wave of his hand. "Pain has the remarkable ability to loosen the tongue, but one must be aware to receive the full effect."

Methos hung up the phone and sat back to finish his beer as he pondered Joe Dawson's call. Like Ian MacLeod, he had heard the rumors that had circulated almost two decades ago. Unlike most though, Methos had a suspicion of who had been behind the disappearances of an untold number of people. If his guess were right though, Mac was in more trouble than he had ever before been in. A sword, even in the hands of an expert like Mac, might be of little use against someone who knew truly powerful magic.

Finishing his beer, Methos walked over to the computer and pulled up information on flights to Scotland.

"Harry, we should have waited for the others," Hermione scolded in a whisper as they approached the reported Death Eater hideout. "What if there are more than just the five we were told about?"

"My source has been giving us tips for months now and he hasn't been wrong before," Harry argued quietly. After months of searching for and destroying the Horcruxes that Voldemort had created in an attempt at immortality, Harry was ready to end the fight once and for all.

"Leave off, Hermione," Ron said. "The Order are all off fighting the Death Eaters somewhere. If we wait 'til they come back, the place will be crawling with Death Eaters again." He did not mention that while the Order knew they had to let Harry face Voldemort eventually because of the prophecy, they were rather unlikely to allow him and Hermione into such a perilous situation. Especially since Ron's mother was a very vocal part of the Order and didn't want her youngest son placed in danger.

Hermione grumbled under her breath but refrained from saying anything more. She knew they were right, but she had a very bad feeling about the whole situation. She waited impatiently while Harry mumbled a spell and waved his wand to remove the wards that protected the Death Eaters hideout.

"The wards are down," Harry said, then resumed his approach toward the darkened mansion.

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that your mystery source would know the spell to take down the Death Eaters' wards?" Hermione asked in a low, acid tone.

"It only makes sense that he knew what the wards were if he managed to escape them," Harry said crossly.

"Or if he helped put them up," Hermione muttered under her breath, knowing Harry wouldn't listen, just like he hadn't listened the last dozen times she'd tried to convince him that his mystery source could be sending them into a trap.

The trio had barely passed through the front door when they heard screams of pain echoing through the hallway.

Hermione turned pale. "Do you think they're torturing someone?" she managed to choke out.

"I don't think they're having a tea-party," Ron said darkly.

"Head toward the screams," Harry said, his teeth clenched, as he led the way down the hall.

The hallways twisted and turned, leading them deeper into Death Eater territory, but always with the gut-wrenching screams to guide them on.

Harry stopped before a door. A light glowed softly along the gap at the bottom. Hermione sniffled a bit as she brushed aside the tears that ran down her face. She wished her imagination was not painting such a vivid picture of what they were doing to the poor soul inside.

"This is it," Harry hissed. "On the count of three…"

CJ DeanPage 75/13/2007


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When the battle was finished, there was nothing left of Voldemort but a pile of ash while Nagini's corpse lay scattered in pieces about the room. They had been too late to save the Muggle though. Hermione covered him with her cloak as Ron bound the unconscious Death Eaters. Harry stalked around the room methodically snapping wands in half.

"We should go, Harry, before the others come back," Hermione said, her voice choked. She had never seen anyone tortured before and what they had done to the poor Muggle had left her distraught.

"Lucius got away," Harry growled. "We should look for him." Ever since Harry had learned that Lucius had escaped Azkaban, he had vowed to find him and see him locked away again.

"Harry, please, let the Order deal with him," Hermione begged. "We may have caught them unaware this time, but Lucius won't be surprised again."

"Besides, mate, he's probably long gone by now," Ron agreed, looking rather pale at the carnage around them. Not all the Death Eaters were just unconscious. "Let's just go."

Harry sighed, suddenly tired as his adrenalin rush subsided. It was finally over. Voldemort, the man who had killed his parents and so many others, was gone for good. "You're right. There's some Floo powder on the mantel," he said, motioning toward the fireplace. "Let's send the Death Eaters on to the Ministry and then get out of here."

Knowing that if they left the Death Eaters behind, their companions would free them once they returned, Hermione floated them to the fireplace one at a time and Ron sent them through for the Ministry to deal with.

As the last of the Death Eaters disappeared, Hermione joined Ron at the fireplace. "Come on, Harry. Let's get back to the Burrow."

"Let's send the Muggle through too. We might be able to find his family and return his body to them. It's the least we can do," Harry said. He was about to float the Muggle across the room when a shout from the doorway took them all by surprise.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Hermione screamed as the green light from Lucius' wand enveloped Harry. Ron, who had been reaching for another handful of Floo powder, spun toward the door when he heard Lucius' voice.

"_Incarcerous_!" Ron yelled as he turned. Ropes flew out of his wand to wind around Lucius' legs. Unfortunately, Lucius' wand arm remained free.

Faced with the new threat, Hermione and Ron dove behind Voldemort's chair, shooting curses across the room at Lucius who was using the door as a shield.

The ensuingbattle seemed to last an eternity, while in reality it lasted only moments. Finally, Lucius lay unconscious while a magical fire burned out of control up a side wall.

"Hermione, Harry," Ron coughed as smoke filled the room. "We've got to get out of here."

Ignoring Ron, Hermione crawled across the floor and threw herself across Harry's lifeless body, sobbing.

Ron stumbled across the room, realizing for the first time that his best friend had been hit by the Killing Curse. "No!" he cried, falling to his knees beside Hermione. Tears began to thread their way down Ron's face as he wrapped his arms around Hermione, rocking her slightly as she threw her arms around his neck and continued crying.

Squinting into the smoky haze, Ron realized that they had to leave before the burning room took them both as well. "Come on, Hermione, we've got to get out of here."

Ron jumped as the chair they had hidden behind exploded in flames. With his heart pounding as the fire drew closer, Ron picked Hermione up and carried her to the fireplace. "I'll put you though first," he said as he lowered her to the floor and scooped up a handful of the Floo powder.

"Wait, what about Harry?" Hermione cried out, grabbing the front of Ron's shirt. "We can't just leave him here."

Ron winced as a beam fell near the doorway. He could barely see Harry's body through the smoke and flames. "There's no time, Hermione. He's gone and we've got to get out of here."

Hermione's eyes widened as the chair collapsed in a shower of sparks. Unable to speak for the tears choking her throat, she simply nodded her acceptance. Harry was gone. Risking their lives now would not bring him back.

After sending Hermione through the Floo, Ron turned for one last look at his best friend. "I'm so sorry, mate," he whispered, then tossed the Floo powder in and disappeared.

Draco rattled the doors to the mausoleum in frustration. The doors were locked to keep riff-raff out, not keep mistakenly entombed family in. Why had the wards not been designed to be aware of that possibility? Draco laughed humorlessly at the thought. There had probably been a few Malfoy's in the past that had been placed inside without the benefit of actually dying first. In fact, he may have been placed here as part of the Dark Lord's twisted punishment.

Walking back to 'his' shelf, Draco reclined on the hard stone as he worked through his options. Without a wand, he could not remove the wards that locked him inside. Since he could not remove the wards, he would have to wait for another family member to do so… or one of the servants. The house-elves were the ones who actually prepared the bodies for burial and periodically checked on the preservation spells, so that was the more likely possibility. Draco had no idea how long it might be before a house-elf would appear though. He might be genuinely dead from lack of water and food by the time one arrived.

However, if a house-elf did come in time, it would be loyal to his father and, even if it were inclined to help him, it would not be able to keep his secret due to its oath. Without his mother, Draco had nothing worth staying for and he did not intend to remain to be tortured further. He planned to get as far away from the Manor as possible before his father learned that he was still alive and free.

Lying on his stone, feeling cold and hungry, Draco recalled rather longingly how Loddy, his personal house-elf, would bring him treats whenever he demanded, even in the middle of the night. It was unfortunate that, though she belonged to Draco, she was bound to his parents first, as it was unwise to let a child have free reign over a creature as powerful as a house-elf. She would not become his until…

A slow, sly smile touched Draco's lips. He had passed his seventeenth birthday, the age of adulthood, a few months ago. Draco's house-elf would now be bound to him alone.

"Loddy!" Draco called imperiously.

There was a small pop and the house-elf appeared. A soft, glowing light illuminated her huge, surprised eyes. "Master Draco, you is alive!" Loddy squeaked. "Oh, Master, Loddy is sorry. She is putting Master Draco in the burial vault and he is not being dead. Loddy is a bad elf… bad, bad."

Draco clenched his teeth as the house-elf began to bang her head against the nearest stone wall. "Loddy, stop that at once." When the house-elf turned to him with a slightly dazed expression, Draco shook his head in aggravation. He would have to head off any more of the house-elf's self-punishment or he would never get out of this place. "You are not to punish yourself for this. I'm sure you believed me dead and acted accordingly."

"Oh, yes, Master Draco. Loddy was sure Master was dead. Until Master called, Loddy believed she belong to Master Lucius."

Draco frowned a bit at that statement. He had been taught that a house-elf always knew who their master was. In fact, Draco had heard that was how they were sure that his mother's cousin, Sirius Black, was dead. Black's house-elf now answered to Harry Potter of all people. However, house-elf magic was so different from human that perhaps there were nuances Draco failed to grasp. That was not the important thing now though. "Everyone believes I'm dead then?"

Loddy looked doubtful. "Loddy is not knowing if _everyone_ believes, Master Draco. Loddy is only a house-elf, Master."

Draco refrained from growling at the creature for its literal interpretation of his question. He would get nowhere if she began beating her head against the wall again. "By everyone, I meant those at the manor such as my father and the other servants."

Loddy brightened considerably since she could answer positively. "Oh yes, Master Draco. All the servants is being at the ceremony when we is placing Master Draco and Mistress Narcissa in the burial house. Master Lucius and Mistress Bellatrix is saying the words and then we all is going back to work."

"Excellent," Draco exclaimed while Loddy beamed with pleasure. Perhaps his first hypothesis was correct and his father had merely assumed he was dead. Lucius would hardly have bothered trying to fool the servants just to punish Draco further by entombing him alive. Even more reason to get as far from here as possible before Lucius discovered his mistake. "Is my father currently at the Manor?"

"No, Master Draco. Ministry wizards comes looking for Master Lucius and he is going. House-elves is telling wizards the Mistress and young Master is being dead, but is not saying anything about Master Lucius." Loddy shuddered at the thought of what Lucius would do to any house-elf who dared say that Lucius had been at the manor since his escape from prison.

"Are any of the Ministry wizards still here?" Draco asked in concern. He did not want to be captured by the Ministry anymore than his father did.

"They is not staying, but they is leaving wards behind so they is knowing if Master Lucius is coming home."

Draco uttered a few choice epithets. While the Ministry's interference was a problem, it was not insurmountable. "Loddy, I want you to listen carefully. You are to tell no one, not even the other servants, that I am still alive. Do you understand?"

"Not even Master Lucius?"

"Especially not Lucius," Draco growled. Appealing to the house-elf's protective instincts, he added, "He's the one that killed my mother and me."

Loddy nodded solemnly. "Loddy is understanding. Master Draco is being dead and be laid in the burial house. Loddy is not telling anyone anything else."

Draco nodded in relief, and then glanced down in consternation as his stomach growled. "Loddy, could you get me some food without arousing suspicion?"

Loddy smiled happily. "Yes, Master Draco. The kitchens is empty without the Masters and Mistress. No one be asking Loddy why she is taking food."

"Good, bring me something here," Draco ordered. "Oh, and leave a light."

Loddy disappeared with another pop, and Draco returned to his shelf to ponder what he should do next. He needed a wand, but he knew of no spares that would not be missed by his father if taken. Fortunately, his Gringotts vault key was in his room. Loddy would be able to retrieve that for him and he could get money to buy a new one.

Unfortunately, to get money he would have to find a way to travel to Diagon Alley. Using the Manor Floo was out of the question and Draco was not confident enough in his Apparating abilities to try that method of transport. Without a wand, he could not create a Portkey or flag down the Knight Bus.

Unable to think of another travel option at the moment, Draco turned his thoughts to the problem of entering a wizarding community without being recognized by someone who would tell his father (or the Dark Lord) that he was still alive. If he had some Polyjuice Potion, he would be able to walk the streets of Diagon Alley with no problem, but that would take almost a month to brew, even if he had Loddy get the ingredients for him. It would be much easier to put a glamour on himself, but he needed a wand to do that. Of course, if he had a wand, he would not need to risk entering Diagon Alley to begin with.

Frustrated by his circular thoughts, Draco found himself wishing for the much simpler days when all he had to worry about was completing his homework or plotting the next strategy to beat Gryffindor at Quidditch. It was almost a pity that Hogwarts had closed its doors after Dumbledore was killed. If Snape were still there, he would have a potion that Draco could use to disguise himself for a few hours. In addition, Draco's trunk was still at the school and it had plenty of galleons stored inside.

A smile slowly spread across Draco's face. If he could get to Hogwarts, Draco could pilfer Snape's potion cabinet and perhaps even locate his trunk. That would solve the problem of a disguise. However, the problem of transportation remained. How was Draco to travel from southern England to northern Scotland without access to the Floo network and without a wand?

Loddy reappeared with a pop and conjured a small table and chair on which to place the tray of food she had brought.

Draco delicately picked at the food on the tray as he continued to consider possible modes of transportation. As he picked up a celery stick and broke off the leafy end, a previously unthought idea presented itself. "Loddy, we still have several brooms stored by the gardens, don't we?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Loddy is making sure they is kept clean and oiled until Master and his friends is using them again."

Draco's lips curved in a slight smiled as he broke off a piece of bread. He had found his transportation to Hogwarts.

Harry woke gasping for air as if he had been holding his breath for far too long. His muscles spasmed as he involuntarily stiffened his body. Even his hair seemed to throb in pain.

"Lie still for a moment. Your body is still healing."

Harry did not recognize the voice, but he did not intend to move again any time soon anyway. As the spasms caused by his breathing began to fade, Harry risked cracking his eyes open. The room, as well as the man sitting across from him, were both unfamiliar.

"Where am I?" Harry attempted to say, although it came out more like the croak of a frog.

Apparently, the man understood frog though, because he answered. "We're in my room at an inn in Scotland. You were injured and I brought you here to recover."

"Ron… Hermione…" Harry croaked. He began to panic as the memory of his last few hours before losing consciousness crept in.

"They're fine," the man said soothingly. "They escaped unharmed." He handed Harry a glass of water and helped him drink a few sips.

Harry dropped his head back to the pillow, only then realizing he was lying in a bed. "Who are you?" he finally asked.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod," the man said as he returned to his seat. "And you are…?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied.

"Well, Harry, if you're feeling better, we need to talk," MacLeod said.

Harry managed to push himself upright in the bed, amazed at how quickly the pain was fading. "Are you a healer?" he asked.

MacLeod smiled. "No, but you'll find that you will heal quickly without one now. It's one of the advantages of what we are."

Harry blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. MacLeod's words did not make much sense to him. "What we are?" he repeated.

"You're an immortal now, Harry," MacLeod said gently. "Your friends saw you die, which is why they left you behind. They had to escape before the building burned down." MacLeod stopped to let Harry process what he was saying.

"Wait, I died? What happened? And how can I be immortal if I died?" Harry asked. His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what he had heard. Had a crazy man kidnapped him?

"I'm not sure how you died, Harry. I was rather out of it myself at the time. My guess is that it was Lucius. He and your friends were fighting when I came to," MacLeod said. "As for being immortal - a violent death is what triggers our immortality. From now on, you will never age and cannot be killed unless someone takes your head."

Harry simply stared for moment, then his eyes widened in surprise. "You're the Muggle the Death Eaters were torturing," he exclaimed. "You were dead!"

"Yes," MacLeod said, filing away the term 'Death Eater' for future reference, "but I can't be killed so easily. Not even by wizards."

"Unless someone cuts your head off," Harry said as what he had learned began to sink in. Then the second part of what MacLeod had said registered. "You know about wizards?"

"The wands were a dead giveaway," MacLeod responded with a small grin. He had known a few witches and wizards in his life, although none who had the type of power No-nose and Lucius had.

"Right," Harry replied, his mind racing. Then he asked, "Why were they torturing you?"

MacLeod sighed and sat back in his chair with a frown on his face. "They discovered that I couldn't be killed and wanted to know the secret."

Harry jolted upright, a horrified look on his face. "He didn't get it, did he? I mean, he really is dead this time, right?"

"Relax, Harry," MacLeod said, walking over to sit on the side of the bed and place a calming hand on Harry's shoulder. "Our immortality is born in us. It can't be taken."

Harry sat back, relieved. His thought drifted to Ron and Hermione once again. "My friends really think I'm dead?"

MacLeod nodded.

"Then I've got to find them and tell them the truth," Harry said suddenly, swinging his legs off the bed as he looked for his shoes.

"Harry, wait."

"No, they'll be so upset. I've got to let them know I'm okay." Harry frantically began to pull his trainers on.

MacLeod shook his head. He had been through this so many times, and it was always the same. "Harry, it's better this way. They'll grieve, yes, but eventually they'll get over it and move on."

Harry looked up, eyes flashing. "They're my friends. I don't want them to just 'move on' without me, not if I'm still alive."

MacLeod took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as Harry tore the door open and stormed through it. Just once, MacLeod would like to have someone else explain the facts of immortal life while he sat back and had a cold drink.

CJ DeanPage 65/13/2007


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Draco gasped as he tried to catch his breath. He was sure the day could not get much worse. First, he had traveled all night only to find Hogwarts locked and apparently abandoned. Unable to get inside and not wanting to risk being recognized in Hogsmeade, Draco had flown to the nearest Muggle town, hoping to get some food. He had left his broom hidden in a copse of trees and walked toward the town, only to have a Muggle with a sword accost him and threaten to chop off his head.

Draco had been unable to retrieve his broom in his haste to lose his pursuer in the woods. Now he was lost and the sword-carrying imbecile was still following him. Twice he had thought he had managed to elude the Muggle, but each time the man had turned up again.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," a voice sang out.

Draco glared in the sword-carrier's direction. There did not seem to be any way to shake this cretin. Of course, things would be much different if he had a wand.

"I can feel you nearby, little mouse. You can't hide from me."

Draco decided that he had had enough of this sword-carrying Muggle. Looking around, he spied a promising looking branch. At about two inches thick and four feet long, he thought he might be able to make a dent in the idiot's head with it. Perhaps he even could hit the dolt hard enough to knock some sense into him.

The Muggle grinned as Draco stepped out from his hiding place about twenty feet away, branch in hand.

"So you found a weapon, did you? Think that will keep me from taking your head?"

With a determined grin in return, Draco said, "You want me so badly, come and get me."

Draco waited until the Muggle was almost within striking distance then cried, "_Accio__Sword_!"

The Muggle stopped in surprise as the sword flew from his hands. Jumping to the side to avoid the flying weapon, Draco used his momentum to swing the branch with all his might. The Muggle dropped to the ground, the sword clanging slightly as it hit a tree.

"I'll give you an 'A' for resourcefulness," a voice said from Draco's right.

Springing back, Draco dropped the branch, grabbed the sword and held it at ready against this possible new menace. While he was unfamiliar with this sort of blade, a sword was a much more comforting weapon than a branch. "What do you want?" Draco hissed, stepping back from the still body on the ground, but keeping both men in his sights.

"Just passing by and saw that neat little trick you pulled on Travis," Methos said, leaning casually against a tree. "Don't let me keep you from finishing up."

Draco frowned, puzzled. "It is finished. He's unconscious, isn't he?"

Methos gazed at him for a moment without saying anything, and then, muttering under his breath, he walked toward Draco. He stopped just short of where Travis lay.

"Listen, kid," Methos said. "He'll come after you again when he wakes up. Travis doesn't strike me as the type to take being bested lying down… so to speak."

Draco's memory flashed back to his last night at Hogwarts, standing on the Astronomy tower, only a few months past. "I don't make a habit of killing men in cold blood."

"That's your prerogative, but in this world it's either kill or be killed. Travis has been hunting your kind for centuries. He won't rest until he has your head."

"What do you mean, 'my kind'?" Draco asked, eyes narrowed, as he carefully circled Travis' body, keeping it between the other man and himself. He did not believe the man was referring to wizards. No Muggle would last very long if he threw himself after wizards with nothing more than a sword. And what did he mean by 'centuries'? Muggles did not live that long.

"New immortals," Methos said, slowly grinning as Draco's face showed momentary surprise.

"You're daft," Draco said. "Not even the Dark Lord is immortal."

Methos laughed softly as he studied Draco. "Do you feel that buzz? That's because another immortal is nearby. That's how Travis found you. It's how he'll keep finding you until he takes your head."

Draco frowned as he realized the man was right. He had been feeling a buzz off and on since Travis had first appeared. It was especially loud at the moment. "And I suppose you are one of these 'immortals'," Draco finally said.

"The only immortal you need to be concerned about at the moment is the one lying at your feet," Methos replied.

"I'll be gone before he wakes up," Draco said.

"That might work," Methos said thoughtfully, "at least until the next immortal tries to take your head."

"How many of you aberrations are there?" Draco asked in exasperation. While his wandless Accio ability was an advantage, he could not depend on it to get him out of every situation. Moreover, dodging flying swords was a danger in itself.

"Enough to keep you running for a very long time," Methos said. "You might want to learn to use that sword. It might keep your head attached for a while longer."

Before Draco could think of a response, his feet were knocked out from under him and he found himself laying flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him and Travis standing over him once again holding the sword. Draco barely managed to roll away before the sword struck the ground where his neck had been only a second before.

"What is it with you people and taking heads? The French revolution was over centuries ago," Draco spat out as he rolled to his feet, watching Travis warily. Judging by the death grip Travis had on his sword, Draco did not think Accio would work a second time.

Travis backed off a few paces as he warily eyed Methos who calmly watched the proceedings. "You know the rules, Adams. No interference once the fight is engaged."

Methos grinned disarmingly, then pulled a sword from under his coat and tossed it toward Draco. "Catch, kid!"

Travis cursed loudly as Draco caught the sword. "Your head is next, Adams," Travis snarled.

"Come now. What sort of fight is it when your opponent is unarmed?" Methos chided.

Turning his attention back to Draco, who was clumsily holding the sword in front of him, Travis grinned maliciously. "Your quickening is mine, little mouse," he purred just before he swung his sword.

Travis bellowed angrily as Draco dived underneath the sword's arc and rolled away. Before he could turn to face Draco, Travis' sword fell from his suddenly numb fingers. Looking down, Travis momentarily saw the tip of a sword protruding from between his ribs.

As Travis sank to his knees, Draco stepped back on shaking legs and pulled his borrowed sword free. It seemed his fencing lessons had not been a total waste after all. His former instructor might not approve of his technique, but he would not be able to fault the outcome.

"That will teach you to become over-confident, Travis," Methos chided, then turned to Draco. "The only way to finish it, kid, is to take his head."

Draco raised the sword but hesitated as Travis, kneeling on the ground in pain, glared up at him.

"It's him or you, kid," Methos said in a soft tone.

Travis gave an evil grin as the sword tip wavered. "You're mine, mouse," he growled.

Draco gritted his teeth as he swung, and then closed his eyes as Travis' head rolled away. He did not see Methos step back as the first tendrils of the quickening sought Draco out.

Harry tore down the stairs leading into the lobby of the inn. His only thought was to get to Ron and Hermione.

"Harry, wait. Let's talk this through first."

Harry turned angrily as MacLeod approached. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Mr. MacLeod, but I need to get back to my friends."

"Harry, let's sit and have a drink. If you still want to leave afterwards, I'll help you find your friends." MacLeod motioned toward a table in the corner of the inn.

Harry glanced toward the front door, then back at MacLeod as he tried to make up his mind what to do. He realized he did not have much of a chance of finding the Burrow with no wand, no money and no real idea of where he was.

Harry was about to admit defeat and join MacLeod at a table when two men walked through the front door. Even with a hat covering his blond hair, Harry recognized the man who had just entered. All the pent up emotional turmoil Harry had been put through that day finally found a focus. "Malfoy!"

Draco barely had time to register surprise before a furious Harry was in his face.

"Where's your father? I'm going to kill the bastard."

Draco snarled in return. "Isn't this just my luck! I can't even become an immortal without The Chosen One becoming one as well."

Draco's benefactor gave the arguing teens a wide berth as he joined MacLeod at the corner table. "Looks like we found a matched set," Methos said as he sat down and motioned to the barman for a beer.

"I though you didn't believe in helping anyone but yourself, Methos," MacLeod said with a grin as he nodded toward the blond teen.

"Bloody boy scout," Methos muttered with a mock-glare at MacLeod. "I think you've infected me."

MacLeod shook his head then returned his attention to the shouting teens. "Should we stop them before they resort to fists?"

"Neither of them has a sword, so it's not like they can really hurt each other," Methos said.

MacLeod rolled his eyes at his friend. "Looks like it's too late anyway," he observed as Draco reeled from a punch Harry threw.

"Not much in the way of technique," Methos observed as both teens landed on the floor and began raining blows on whatever flesh was available.

"They're still young," MacLeod replied. "Give them a few centuries and I'm sure they'll improve."

The two older immortals serenely drank their beers as the teens continued to scuffle on the floor. When it looked like neither boy had much left to give, but both were too stubborn to actually stop, MacLeod walked over to the bar, asked for a bucket of ice, then calmly dumped the contents onto the heads of the two teens, effectively ending the battle.

"Are you picking up strays again, MacLeod?" Joe asked with a nod at the two sullen teens as he joined his friends at the inn later that evening. He had been quite relieved when Rachel had called and told him that the missing MacLeod had resurfaced. It looked as though Methos' help had not been needed after all.

"Actually, the blond came with Adam," MacLeod said, and then introduced Joe to the two teens.

Joe nodded a greeting to the boys and called for a beer.

"I thought your name was Adams?" Draco asked suspiciously of Methos, stressing the 's' at the end of the name.

"In another place and time," Methos replied nostalgically. "I currently prefer Adam Pierson. He's a nice, unobtrusive soul. Devoted to his books."

"Devoted to mooching off his friends and giving unwanted advice," Joe interrupted with a chuckle. "Don't listen to a word he says, kid."

"You wound me, Joe," Methos gasped, holding his hand over his heart.

Giving a derisive snort, Joe turned to MacLeod. "So, what the hell happened to you, Mac? You disappear into thin air, and then show up later like nothing happened. What gives?"

MacLeod explained about the insane man who thought he could find the secret to immortality by torturing the information from him. He also explained how Harry had killed the man, but had then been killed himself. He did not, however, mention anything about wizards or magic.

"Of course," Draco snorted into his soft drink (the adults wouldn't let him have anything stronger), "the Boy Who Lived not only takes on the Dark Lord and wins yet again, but now he's effin' Boy Who Can't Die."

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped.

"I do hope you actually killed him for good this time, Potter," Draco continued. "Your fans will be so disappointed if he keeps coming back every decade or so."

"He's dead, alright," Harry replied heatedly. "There wasn't anything more than a smudge left of him."

"And whom do we have to thank for your untimely demise, brief though it might have been?" Draco asked.

"Your father," Harry snapped. "Next time you see him, tell him I'll be coming for him next."

"I don't think that will be an issue," MacLeod interrupted. "Lucius was out cold when that building went up in flames." He then turned to Draco. "Lucius was your father?"

Draco gave MacLeod a wary look. While Adam and Joe seemed pleasant enough, MacLeod was a bit forbidding. "He raised me," Draco said cautiously, "but I do not claim him as my father."

"What?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "You worshipped the ground he walked on, Malfoy."

"It appears that we not only share our immortality, but the same man is responsible for initiating our condition," Draco said, then smirked at Harry's stunned expression. "If he weren't already dead, I might try to kill him myself."

"What kind of father kills his own son?" Harry gasped in shock.

"As if you know anything about fathers, Potter, seeing as you've never had one," Draco snapped. Regardless of his personal feelings for his father, defending the man to others had become a second nature for Draco.

"Have you two ever had a civil conversation before?" MacLeod interrupted.

"Of course," Draco replied with a smirk, "just not with each other."

"Then maybe you could ignore each other for a while and give the rest of us a break," Joe said.

Draco and Harry glared at each other while the other men talked and then Harry remembered what had precipitated his running into Draco in the first place.

"Mr. MacLeod…" Harry began, and then paused when Methos started chuckling.

"Please, Harry, call me Mac. Mr. MacLeod sounds so old."

"Yeah, he's only four hundred and something," Methos chortled.

"And you're older than that," MacLeod said, glaring at his friend.

"Don't you two start," Joe said. "You should be setting an example for the younger generation."

"What were you going to say, Harry?" MacLeod asked, turning pointedly away from the grinning Methos.

"I still need to get back to my friends," Harry said.

Methos cocked his head to one side as he looked at Harry. "Don't your friends think you're dead?"

Draco snorted. "The whole wizarding world thinks he's dead."

Harry gaped at Draco. "They do?"

Draco sat up straighter, warming to his subject. "You should have heard all the talk on the streets as we were coming here. Everywhere we went they were lamenting. 'Oh, woe is me, the Chosen One is gone. Whatever shall we do now?'" Draco dramatically threw an arm over his forehead as if he felt faint.

"Yeah, right," Harry complained. "Like they'd even care now that Voldemort is gone."

"Well, I certainly don't," Draco said, and then added with a pained sigh. "But unfortunately I know the truth and am unable to celebrate the great loss of our national hero."

"Of all the people I have to become immortal with, why did it have to be you?" Harry grumbled.

"It could be worse, Potter," Draco said. "It could be Snape."

When Harry's eyes narrowed angrily, MacLeod realized an explosion was imminent.

"Harry, about your friends," MacLeod began, diverting Harry's attention from Draco. "We immortals keep our existence to ourselves for the most part." He glanced briefly at Joe, one of the few mortals who knew about them, then returned his attention to Harry. "How would you explain all this if you did go back?"

Harry sat back with his arms crossed. "Ron and Hermione would understand. I can tell them anything."

"Right, just like the Weasel understood about the Triwizard Tournament," Draco said in his slow drawl. "He didn't speak to you for some time after you were selected. Does the term 'jealousy' mean anything to you?"

"He thought I had found a way to enter and didn't tell him," Harry said through gritted his teeth. "It was that fake Moody that put my name in." Harry slowly grinned. "The same guy who thought you would look good as a ferret."

Draco's face turned pale, and then a faint pink flush touched his cheeks.

"Moving on," Joe interrupted before another argument could start. "Harry, if your friend was jealous over some tournament that he didn't get in, how do you think he's going to feel when you tell him you get to live forever and he doesn't?"

"You're not an immortal and you're friends with Mac and Adam," Harry said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

"I knew about immortals long before I met them," Joe said. "To be honest, I'd rather have a mortal life than have to constantly worry about someone taking my head."

"You're still young, Harry. Your friends may not have a problem now, but what happens when they start getting older and you're still seventeen?"

Harry pondered that for a moment. "They might be immortals, too."

"I can tell when I'm around someone who could become an immortal and I felt nothing from either of them, just from you," MacLeod said with a compassionate glance at Harry.

"Thank Merlin," Draco muttered. "I'd hate to think I'd have to spend eternity with the Weasel, too."

Harry stood up so quickly that his chair fell over behind him. "You selfish, little bastard. It's just like all that pure-blood trash you used to spout. Now you'll lord it over everyone else that you're immortal and they aren't."

"I hardly plan to 'lord it over' anyone, Potter," Draco said icily. "If the rest of the world found out about immortals, it would only be a matter of time until they found out how to kill us. I, for one, rather like my head right were it is."

"That is true, Harry," MacLeod interrupted gently. "There are those who would kill us just because of what we are."

"It would give the term 'witch-hunt' a whole new meaning," Draco added acidly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in agitation then dropped back into his chair that Methos had fortunately set back upright. "Ron and Hermione would keep it a secret," he said softly, as if to convince himself more than his companions. "I know they would if I asked."

"Why don't you sleep on it, Harry?" Joe suggested, downing the last of his beer. It had been a long day for all of them, the two teens especially. "It's too late to do anything tonight anyway. I'm ready for a bed, myself."

"I think I'll turn in too," Methos said. "My plane leaves Dublin tomorrow morning."

"Where are you off to now?" MacLeod asked as he stood also.

"I plan to be on the first plane that's going someplace warm and sunny," Methos said with a grin.

"Are you coming, Harry?" MacLeod asked when Harry remained in his chair.

Harry managed a small smile, but shook his head. "I think I'll just sit here for a bit. I don't think I could go to sleep right now anyway. Too much has happened." He sipped the remainder of his drink as he watched the four men leave the room.

In the hallway outside his room, Methos stopped and turned to MacLeod. "Bet you ten that he's gone come morning."

Joe chuckled softly. "That's a sucker bet."

MacLeod just shook his head. "I think I'll keep my money."

CJ DeanPage 75/13/2007


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Think you're still at Hogwarts, Potter, slipping out in the middle of the night?"

Harry froze as Draco's familiar drawl floated out of the darkness surrounding the inn. "I don't have to answer to you, Malfoy."

"No, you never answer to anyone, do you?" Draco said, walking out of the shadows.

"I'm going to find Ron and Hermione, so just bugger off," Harry said.

Draco laughed derisively. "You think you can find your way to the Weasel's hovel all by yourself with no wand and no money? You'll lose your head before you make it out of Scotland."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Harry snarled. "Maybe you'd like to come along to watch?"

"That's not a bad idea, Potter. The entertainment value alone will be worth the aggravation of being in your august presence for an extended period of time," Draco said, falling into step with Harry as Harry turned and stalked away.

Harry snorted in disbelief. "What's your real reason for following me?"

Draco was silent for a moment, but when he finally answered, his tone lacked its usual sarcasm. "I feel naked without a wand and if immortals are going to keep coming after our heads, I want something better than a sharp piece of metal to defend myself with."

Harry nodded in agreement about the wand. "That still doesn't explain why you're following me. We're more likely to kill each other before an immortal has the chance."

"Since we have neither wands nor swords, that isn't likely," Draco said. "Besides, there's safety in numbers. Isn't that why you always have Granger and Weasley hanging on your shirttails?"

"I suppose that once you have a wand, you'll be after every immortal's head that you can find," Harry said as they continued walking. "You probably plan to become the next Dark Lord."

"Taking over the world seems like too much effort to expend for the small recompense received," Draco replied.

"Oh, you don't get your thrills torturing Muggles and Muggle-born?" Harry asked.

Harry glanced over when Draco did not answer immediately.

Finally, Draco replied. "Apparently, torture is not my forte."

Harry blinked a few times as he absorbed the meaning behind those words. "Is that why your father killed you?" Harry asked softly. "Because you wouldn't follow in his footsteps?"

Draco snorted derisively. "_Couldn't_ follow in his footsteps," Draco corrected. "The Dark Lord was justified in ordering my removal. I was of no use to him or the cause."

"That's ridiculous," Harry said scathingly. "Better to die standing up for yourself than follow that monster."

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and jerked him around until they were face to face. "But I wasn't the one who died, was I, Potter? No, my mother is the one who paid for my lack of fortitude."

Harry started to make a snide remark about how she was just another Death Eater, but the pain in Draco's face stopped him. "How did she die?" he asked instead.

"Trying to save her worthless son from a well-deserved fate," Draco snarled, then turned and began to walk again. "A pointless attempt to stave off the inevitable conclusion of my inability to do something as simple as kill a Muggle child."

Harry hurried to catch up, shocked at Draco's self-recrimination. "She died to save you," he said gently.

"Yes, she did," Draco said sardonically. "Not that it was necessary since I CAN'T BE KILLED."

"She didn't know that," Harry said. "She did what she could to protect you because she was your mother."

Draco growled. "I am a grown man. It wasn't her place to protect me."

Before Harry could think of a response, Draco continued. "Tell me, Potter, what would the Chosen One have done?" he asked conversationally. "What if the Dark Lord held your mother's life hostage against your performance? Would you do as he commanded to save her or would you allow your failure to kill her?"

Harry tried to picture himself in such a situation, but could not. "I don't know, Malfoy. I probably would have tried to kill him and save my mother that way."

"Of course you would have, Potter. You're a Gryffindor," Draco said with a bitter laugh. "You would have fought, no matter the cost."

Harry bristled at the comment. "At least I would have done something, not like a Slytherin who just slinks away and hides."

Draco's face blanched. "I would gladly take hiding over fighting anyday. Unfortunately, Lucius knows all the best hiding places. It did not take him long to find ours and turn us over to the Dark Lord."

Harry swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "Your father was a monster. He deserved to die."

Draco laughed quietly. "At least we agree on that."

Harry felt that he had just seen a glimpse of the life that had led Draco to that night in the Astronomy tower and he found himself unable to condemn his long-time rival. Like Harry, Draco had been given little choice in his path in life. Perhaps their newfound immortality was a chance for them both to start over without the preconceived ideas others held about them. "Maybe you're right and we should travel together. Do you think we can keep from killing each other long enough to find a wand shop?"

Draco raised a brow and glanced over at Harry. "I suppose a truce would be in order, Potter, just until we can arm ourselves properly as wizards though."

"Agreed," Harry said with a small grin. They might never be friends, but a truce was a step in the right direction. Harry thought that Dumbledore would be proud of him for making the effort.

They walked in silence for a moment. Draco finally broke the spell by asking, "So, where are we going, Potter?"

"I thought we'd go to London. We can get wands in Diagon Alley and I can use the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron to visit Ron," Harry said. He did not know where any other wizarding places were.

"In that case," Draco said sardonically, pointing back the way they had come, "you might want to walk in that direction."

With a muttered curse, Harry turned around. Their truce obviously did not cover sarcastic comments.

They continued down the street in silence for a few minutes. Hearing a car coming, Harry turned and stuck his thumb out, hoping the car would stop and save them a few miles of walking.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Hitchhiking," Harry said, kicking a rock after the car as it sped past without even slowing.

"And the point of this 'hitchhiking' would be?"

"To get someone to stop and give us a ride," Harry said, sticking his thumb up once again.

Draco watched in amusement as the second car sped by. "You must be doing it wrong."

"You think you can do better?" Harry growled, wondering whatever had possessed him to think traveling with Draco would be a good idea.

"There's a restaurant," Harry said. "Have you got any money? I'm starving."

They had been alternating between riding (Draco seemed to have a magic thumb when it came to hitchhiking) and walking all night. Unfortunately, the few cars that were out this early did not seem inclined to stop.

"No, but I have this," Draco said, pulling a rectangular piece of plastic from his jacket pocket.

"Hey, that's Adam's," Harry said, snatching it out of Draco's hand. "You can't use someone else's credit card. That's illegal."

Draco snatched the card back and shoved it into his pocket again. "If he didn't want it borrowed, he shouldn't have left it lying about. Even a first-year Slytherin knows that much."

"Humph, 'borrowed' implies the intent to return it, Malfoy," Harry said dryly.

"Well, if your high moral standards won't allow you to use someone else's credit card, then you can go hungry," Draco said and turned purposefully toward the restaurant.

"You're a prick, Malfoy."

Draco merely grinned. "At least I won't be a hungry prick."

Harry grumbled as they entered the tavern and found a seat. He refused to meet Draco's eyes as he ordered the largest breakfast available, turning instead to stare out the window.

They waited for their meals and ate in silence. Harry could feel his whole outlook on life improving as the hollow feeling in his belly became full once again.

"I can't believe you eat so much greasy food," Draco said with a shudder. "I wonder if immortals can have heart seizures."

"I'll ask Mac if we ever see him again," Harry said around a mouthful of sausage. He looked disdainfully at the poached egg and toast that Draco was eating. "That's not enough to keep a rabbit alive."

"I'm sure that, even if your arteries aren't clogging as we speak, an immortal can still get fat," Draco said.

"We'll be walking enough to work it off," Harry said, cutting his ham into smaller pieces.

"Hmmm, you have a point." Draco reached over to snatch a slice of bacon off Harry's plate.

"Hey! That's mine."

"You've consumed more than enough fat already, Potter," Draco replied.

Glaring, Harry moved his plate out of reach, just in case Draco decided something else looked appealing, not that there was much left.

Once they were finished and the tab paid, Harry told Draco he would meet him outside and headed toward the men's room. Draco was leaning against the side of the building while he waited, when a car pulled up and he felt the familiar buzz from the day before. For a moment, he thought that Adam had caught up with them, but he did not recognize the man who stepped out of the vehicle.

Draco stiffened as the man walked over. He recognized the predatory look in the immortal's eyes. It was the same way Voldemort looked just before he cursed someone.

"I'm Phillip Browning," the man said. "Shall we take this somewhere a little less public?"

"Bugger off," Draco said. "I'm not interested in a fight."

"Oh? But I am," Browning said, and then his grin broadened. "And unless I miss my guess, you're not armed."

"You'd be a fool to do anything in front of witnesses," Draco said with a nod toward the front of the restaurant where people were coming and going.

"True, but I don't plan to be in front of witnesses when I take your head," Browning said as he stepped closer.

Draco gasped as a sharp pain erupted just above his right hip. Looking down, he saw Browning withdraw a small knife from his side. He could understand now why Travis had not attempted to fight back after he was stabbed. Draco's body refused to respond at all.

With a malicious grin, Browning pulled Draco's arm over his shoulder and dragged him behind the building and into the woods beyond, while Draco struggled to stay on his feet.

Harry exited the tavern and, feeling a buzz to the left, headed around the building to find Draco. He was just in time to see a man drag his traveling companion into the woods. Fearing the worst, Harry picked up a metal pipe lying on the ground and quickly followed the two men.

Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten that the immortal was able to feel his presence as well and the man was waiting for him when he burst through the trees. Draco lay on the ground and, although he did not appear to be responsive, at least his head was still attached.

"Thought you'd take me while I was weak from the quickening, didn't you?" Browning said. Then noticing the pipe Harry was carrying, he started to laugh. "Don't tell me … a pair of newborns without a weapon between you. How sweet!"

"Never underestimate your opponent," Harry said as he hefted the pipe into a defensive position.

"Since you are new to our world, allow me to instruct you in a bit of immortal etiquette," Browning said as he and Harry circled each other. "When engaging in a fight, it is proper to introduce yourself. I'm Phillip Browning, and you are?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied tersely and then began hissing in Parseltongue.

Confused at the odd sounds the teen was making, Browning approached cautiously. He and Harry circled each other warily for a moment, and then Browning suddenly began flailing about as a snake dropped out of an overhanging tree and landed on his head.

Draco watched blearily from the ground as Harry tried to get close enough to the immortal to use the pipe he carried without the man's wildly swinging weapon hitting him. Focusing as best he could, Draco yelled, "_Accio__Sword_!"

Seizing the opportunity Draco had provided, Harry swung the pipe, knocking the immortal to the ground, unconscious.

With a relieved sigh, Harry thanked the snake then stumbled over to check on Draco.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, what happened?" Harry asked in concern when he saw Draco's blood-soaked shirt.

"Note to self; don't Accio sharp objects while unable to dodge them," Draco hissed as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He was too embarrassed to mention the first knife wound that had incapacitated him.

"Think you can walk? We need to get out of here before he comes around."

Nodding, Draco made it to his feet and looked around the clearing. "Neat trick with the snake, Potter," he said. "I'm impressed."

Harry found himself grinning. That was the first time Draco had ever seemed honestly impressed with anything Harry had done. "Thanks," he said simply.

Draco winced as his body throbbed with each step he took. "You've got to finish him, Potter," he said, looking at the immortal lying on the ground. "If you don't, he'll be after us again before we can get very far and there may not be a cooperative snake around to help next time."

"You can't be serious. He's unconscious," Harry objected. "I can't kill someone who's helpless like that."

"That wouldn't have stopped him," Draco said sourly. "I'd do it myself, but I'm not sure which of him to aim at." He probed gingerly at a lump on the back of his head.

Harry swallowed hard. The logical part of him said that Draco was right, but his conscience just would not agree.

"Bloody Gryffindor morals," Draco grumbled when it became apparent that Harry was not going to do anything. "At least get the sword, Potter."

Harry nodded and retrieved the weapon.

Both teens turned as Browning groaned, indicating his imminent return to consciousness.

"Give it here, Potter, I'll do it," Draco said in a resigned tone. He took the sword and stumbled a few steps toward Browning before Harry stopped him.

"In your state, he'd probably end up like Nearly-Headless Nick," Harry said and retrieved the sword. He knew Draco was right. Browning was no better than the Death Eaters. He would have killed Draco without a qualm. It was a matter of self-defense.

Steeling himself, Harry brought the sword up and swung. The groaning stopped.

Draco stumbled away as Harry's first quickening sought him out.

"I can't believe that prat stole my credit card," Methos fumed as he joined MacLeod and Joe for breakfast.

"Harry's gone too," MacLeod said. "You don't think Draco went after him?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Joe said. "The way those two fought, I'd be surprised to find they both still have their heads."

Methos opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, MacLeod jumped to his feet and sprinted out the front door. Joe and Methos exchanged puzzled looks.

"Any idea what that was about?" Joe asked.

"An early morning run?" Methos suggested.

"Should we go after him?"

Before Methos could answer, MacLeod walked back into the building swearing under his breath.

"What's got your feathers ruffled?" Joe asked.

"Lucius," MacLeod growled. "I saw that blond head of his go by, but he disappeared before I could catch up with him."

"The man that tortured you?" Methos asked. "Do you think he followed you?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," MacLeod said. "He seemed determined to learn our 'secret'."

"Do you think he saw the boys with us last night?" Joe asked. "He's already tried to kill Harry and Draco once."

MacLeod frowned. "We have to warn them."

"I can put the watchers on the lookout for them," Joe said. "But if they found a ride last night, they could be back in England by now."

"Well, I know how to find at least one of them," Methos said, pulling out his phone. "That is, if he's used that credit card he stole from me."

As they returned to the street, Harry looked critically at Draco's blood soaked shirt and pants." We need to get some clothes," he said. "No one's going to give a ride to someone who looks like an axe murderer."

Draco grimaced as he glanced down at his clothes. Fortunately, his coat hid the worst of it, as long as the person was not standing too close. "You'll have to do it, Potter. There'd be too many questions if anyone sees me like this." He pulled out the 'borrowed' credit card and handed it to Harry.

Harry grimaced at the thought of putting more charges on Adam's card, but he consoled himself by promising to pay the man back as soon as he was able.

They stopped at a petrol station and Draco went to the men's room to wait while Harry went to find some clothes at a nearby shop. While he waited, Draco attempted to clean off the worst of the blood that had dried on his stomach and the dirt on his face and hands. He tensed when he felt the approach of an immortal, and then relaxed when Harry called out for him to open the door.

"Don't tell me that was all you could find?" Draco asked in distaste as Harry pulled a black t-shirt from the bag.

Harry grinned and held it up. "I thought it was perfect for you," he said as he displayed the 'Fcuk It!' logo across the front.

Grumbling at Harry's choice of attire, Draco quickly stripped off the bloodstained clothes and changed into the t-shirt and jeans Harry had bought. "At least no one I know will see me like this."

"A fate worse than death," Harry agreed solemnly. "Listen, I was thinking-"

"Really? Shall I notify the Prophet? Surely this is a historic occasion."

Harry noticed the slight smile on Draco's lips and waved the comment off. "Anyway… I asked the girl at the store where the nearest train station was and she said we're only about ten miles from one. If we can catch the train there, we should be in London by this afternoon."

"And this thought couldn't have occurred to you last night before we walked halfway across Scotland?" Draco asked.

"Last night I didn't know we had any money," Harry replied, pulling the credit card out and waving it in front of Draco's face.

Draco snorted. "Perhaps you should try thinking more often." He threw the ruined clothes in the bin and the teens made their way back to the road. "Especially the next time you're compelled to run after an immortal armed with nothing but a pipe."

"I saved your arse, didn't I?" Harry said smugly.

"Only after I summoned the sword," Draco replied with his customary smirk.

"Who would have guessed that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could work together without killing each other," Harry mused.

"Slytherins are opportunists, Potter," Draco replied. "We do whatever is in our own best interest, even if that means working with a Gryffindor."

Harry nodded in amusement. Draco would never admit that they had done well together. "Do you think we'll run into more of them?"

"Eventually," Draco said. "They'll keep coming until there is only one left."

"Mac did mention some sort of prize for the last one standing," Harry said as they walked. "I suppose you'll go after the prize once we have wands again."

"On the contrary," Draco smirked. "I plan to sit back, relax and let the other immortals kill each other off. Then all I have to do is take the one left." Draco's smirk turned into a full grin as he added, "If I'm fortunate, that will be you."

"Well, I'm tired of killing," Harry said. "Once I have a wand, I don't plan to fight anyone unless I have to." He gave Draco a sidelong glace. "Not that I would mind if you and I were facing each other at the end. You, I could take."

Draco laughed; a genuine laugh that Harry had never heard from his rival before. "I think that would be most appropriate, Potter. You and I, the last ones standing, winner takes the prize."

"Someone else may get one of us before then," Harry said reasonably.

"Then we'll just have to watch each other's backs," Draco replied hotly. "I'm not having my final battle denied me by one of those sword-carrying Muggle idiots."

Harry had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Bitter rivals vowing to protect each other just so they could battle it out at the end. "Alright, Malfoy, I promise to watch your back until we're the last two standing," he said, holding out his hand to seal the deal.

Draco smirked and took Harry's hand in his. "Agreed, Potter. I promise to do my best to keep you alive until we are the last two immortals left."

CJ DeanPage 65/13/2007


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Harry let his head fall back against the window behind him as the motion of the train lulled him to sleep. While Harry drifted in and out of sleep, Draco and the older man who shared their compartment carried on an animated conversation about world politics. Although Harry found it surprising that Draco knew so much about the goings-on in the Muggle world, he was too tired to come up with a suitable comment.

As soon as they arrived at King's Cross Station and left the train, Draco pulled Harry behind some large bins and looked around warily.

"What's your problem now?" Harry grumbled.

"I thought you were going to start using that paperweight on your shoulders for something besides immortal target practice, Potter," Draco said, arms crossed. "As soon as someone from our world sees you, rumors of the Boy Who Lived Again are going to start flying. Do you really want your friends to hear about your resurrection through the wizarding grapevine?"

Harry let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes. "What would you suggest? I have to get to the Floo network to get to the Burrow."

Draco gazed at Harry critically. "Your eyes are a rather memorable green that is bound to get noticed as is that disfigurement on your head. Perhaps a hat to hide that hideous scar and a pair of dark glasses. Here." Draco pulled out the hat he had been wearing the day before and put it on Harry's head.

"And that white head of yours won't be noticed?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Well, the Muggles must have some way of changing their hair color," Draco replied. "Or are you going to tell me that blue and green are natural colors for Muggles?"

Harry chuckled as he remembered Draco's disdainful expression when they passed some teens with brightly colored hair. "I guess we'll have to use Adam's card again. We are going to pay him back, right?"

"I trust your Gryffindor morals would allow nothing less," Draco replied.

"Which means I'll be doing the paying," Harry said dryly.

"Without me, you would still be wandering around northern Scotland, lost and hungry."

"Oh? And whose idea was it to ride the train?"

"And who obtained the transportation to the train station?" Draco retorted.

Harry sighed then chuckled ruefully. "You're right, Malfoy. I'd never have made it this far without you."

Draco watched Harry walk toward the street with suspicious eyes. Had Harry just complimented him? Perhaps he had not truly recovered from that blow to the head after all.

"It appears that Draco made it to London, went shopping and rented a hotel room for the night," Methos said as he closed his cell phone.

"We should be able to catch up with him before he checks out in the morning," Joe said. "I'll let the Watchers in London know where he is."

"Any word from the Watchers about Harry?" MacLeod asked.

"No, although it's not like I could give them much in the way of a description."

"Oh, come on, Joe. It's an island… how hard could it be to find one teen-ager somewhere in Great Britain?" Methos asked with a chuckle. "The Watchers must be getting lax since I left them."

MacLeod rolled his eyes. "Come on, you two. You can discuss the current state of the Watchers on the way to London."

Draco muttered a few curses under his breath as he glared at his reflection in the mirror. "This had better come out, Potter."

"It was your idea to dye your hair the Muggle way," Harry pointed out with a grin. "The box says it will wash out with regular shampoo, so stop complaining."

"Fine, let's go before I realize just how low I've sunk, and fall into a debilitating depression that only a great amount of dark chocolate can remedy," Draco said with a pout.

Harry burst out laughing and fell back on the bed. With the promise of seeing his friends in the near future, Harry was in high spirits once again.

At Draco's dark glare, Harry stifled his laughter and sat back up. "How do I look?" he asked, putting on the large sunglasses Draco had bought.

Draco turned away from his reflection and nodded at Harry. "It's an improvement. You should hide your face more often."

Harry stuck out his tongue then grinned. Lately, he had noticed the lack of any real animosity between them. Then he sobered as reality hit him. "I don't have any money and I doubt anyone in Diagon Alley takes credit cards. How will we get wands?"

"Gringotts will be open and they're very discrete. No one will know that we've been there."

"I don't have the key to my vault with me," Harry said.

"You wouldn't be the first person to misplace their key. It might be a hassle of paperwork, but they'll work around it if need be."

Another problem occurred to Harry. "Won't the Goblins think I'm dead?"

Draco smirked at Harry's ignorance. "Goblins have their own way of knowing when a client dies and who the property should be passed on to. You might want to change the name your account is under though, just in case the Ministry becomes curious."

"Adam said something about having different names. I guess it's common among immortals," Harry mused. "Any suggestions?"

"Perhaps a new first and last name with Harold as a middle name. Then you could still answer to Harry," Draco replied. "It's not that uncommon a name."

"Not like Draco," Harry said with a chuckle. "Are you going to change yours?"

"Perhaps I could take the surname of Black. That was my mother's maiden name," Draco said thoughtfully.

"And shorten your first name to Drake," Harry added with a grin.

Draco winced. "From the most of magnificent of beast to a water fowl."

Harry laughed at Draco's expression. "If you don't like Drake, how about Coco?"

"A water fowl it is then," Draco said with a glare at Harry. "And what shall you choose?"

"My mother's maiden name was Evans and my father's name was James," Harry said. "How does Evan Harold James sound?"

"A suitable soubriquet," Draco said with a nod. "I shall become Drake Aiden Black." At Harry's puzzled look, Draco added, "Aiden was a great-uncle that I was rather fond of as a child."

As they left the room, Harry chuckled quietly. "Can I still call you Coco?"

"Only if you enjoy being hexed, James."

"Call me Harry and I'll keep your little nickname between us," Harry said with a laugh.

"Very well," Draco said, and then added haughtily, "and you may address me as Drake." Draco shuddered dramatically as he said the name.

The two teens left the hotel and began their walk to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry, unfamiliar with this part of London, had to trust Draco to lead the way. For some odd reason, that thought did not bother him nearly as much as he thought it should.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry asked, "So, Drake, what are you going to do after we get our wands?"

"A good night's sleep wouldn't be amiss," Draco replied.

"No, I mean, are you going to stay in London? Finish school? Get a job?"

"A job?" Draco said in mock shock. "Surely you jest."

Harry snorted. "Okay, so you plan to be a man of leisure. Any idea where you want to go next?"

"I hear that cruises can be quite relaxing," Draco replied. "Lots of warm sun, blue water, lying by the pool with nothing to do but sip a cold drink…"

"Hmm, just be sure to take along plenty of sun-block."

Draco chuckled as they approached the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. "You're a wizard, Harry. There are spells for that sort of thing."

"Of course," Harry said ruefully. "How else would you keep your skin so pale? It must be a pure-blood thing."

Draco cast a sideways glance at Harry, but saw the smile hovering on his rival's face, so did not take offense as he once would have. "Only those forced to perform manual labor for their day's wages would allow their skin to become blemished by the sun, Harry."

As Harry and Draco made their way to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and stepped through the entrance into Diagon Alley, Harry stopped in shock. Wizards and witches, dressed in every color of the rainbow, were dancing about and shouting merrily to each other as music played from several of the closest establishments.

"They've probably been celebrating ever since the Dark Lord was proclaimed dead," Draco yelled over the music.

Harry sputtered in surprise as a witch stopped to kiss him on the mouth and then danced away.

"I didn't know there _were_ this many witches and wizards," Harry said in amazement. He was having very mixed feelings about the wizarding world at that moment. True, Voldemort was dead, but didn't anyone care that Harry Potter was as well (at least, as far as they knew)?

"Let's go," Harry said as he shook his head to clear his thoughts, and began skirting the crowd as he made his way towards the Goblin bank. An occasional glance back reassured him that Draco was still following. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when they finally entered the relatively quiet Gringotts.

"This way," Draco said, steering Harry toward a Goblin that was busily writing numbers in a ledger.

Draco explained to the Goblin who grumpily greeted them that they needed to access their vaults but Harry did not have his key with him.

Harry quickly lost interest in the proceedings as Draco and the Goblin argued for a bit, then the Goblin pulled out what appeared to be a small mountain of paperwork for Harry to sign. After attempting to read the first paragraph of the first page, Harry gave up and just signed where the Goblin pointed. Shortly after, a new key was produced, Harry and Draco visited their vaults, exchanged part of their wizarding money for Muggle money, and then returned to the street where the celebration appeared to be even livelier than before.

"There's a new wand-maker down that way," Draco shouted.

The witch that ran the wand shop was quite pleased to have two customers, as most of the wizarding world was too busy celebrating to frequent her shop. In no time at all, Harry and Draco had found suitable wands and Draco had cajoled the wand shop owner to allow Harry to use her Floo so that he would not have to navigate the crowds again.

"What if the Weasel isn't alone?" Draco asked as he and Harry entered the office where the Floo was. "You will have a difficult time explaining your death to a whole mob of Weasleys."

"That might be a problem," Harry agreed. He had not given much thought to what he would do once he got this far. "Any suggestions?"

"Now that we have wands, a glamour would be a better disguise, especially around people who know you well," Draco said. He performed the charm on Harry then grinned at the results.

"You made me horrid looking, didn't you?" Harry complained.

"Oh, no, Harry. You look good as a blond," Draco said with a laugh, "and the pale, flawless skin is a definite improvement."

Harry groaned at the image that brought to mind. "You made me look like you, you prat."

"Not quite, but you could pass for a distant cousin," Draco said, still grinning.

"Fine, now what do I say if someone besides Ron is there?" Harry asked, beginning to get nervous.

"Just act confused and say you meant to Floo to the Bureau; it's a lovely restaurant in southern France. Then pretend you recognize whoever it is and ask if Ron is there."

Harry shook his head in wonder. "You Slytherins really are devious, aren't you?"

"Thank you for that compliment, Harry," Draco said.

Turning to the fireplace, Harry began to have doubts that visiting the Burrow was the right thing to do.

"What if Mac is right?" Harry said quietly. "Maybe it would be better to just let them move on without me."

"Suit yourself. I'm heading back to my warm, comfortable bed regardless," Draco said as he placed a glamour on himself. He looked like a young version of Snape.

Harry ignored Draco's choice of disguises. "What about you? Do your friends think you're dead?" Harry was surprised that it had never occurred to him to ask before.

"Although it was hardly front page news like some, my obituary was in the Daily Prophet," Draco said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Since most of my friend's are able to read, I assume that they are aware of my supposed demise."

"And you're not going to tell them you're still alive?" Harry asked.

"Were I still alive, Potter, I would no doubt have to answer to the Ministry for certain events that occurred near the end of our sixth year at Hogwarts," Draco said acidly.

Harry's eyes opened wide. With everything that had happened, he had almost forgotten what Draco had done. "You let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

Draco looked startled for a moment, but sidestepped the issue. "I was seen leaving with Snape the night he is suspected to have killed Professor Dumbledore. You, yourself, chased us almost to the gates."

"I saw the whole thing, Malfoy," Harry said softly. "I heard Dumbledore offer you protection. I saw you lower your wand. And I saw Snape…" Harry wasn't able to finish.

"How did you…? That stupid, invisibility cloak," Draco spat out. "Why didn't you do anything, you being the brave Gryffindor and all?"

"Dumbledore petrified me. I couldn't move," Harry managed to say through the choked feeling in his throat. "All I could do was watch… until it was over."

Draco began to back away from Harry. "Is that why you suggested we travel together? You've been planning to turn me over since the beginning, haven't you? You were just waiting until you had a wand."

Before Harry could manage to overcome his surprise at the conclusion Draco had jumped to, Draco disappeared through the office door, then out of the store and into the packed streets. Harry tried to follow, but Draco quickly lost him in the crowds that were still celebrating the new age of peace.

Fuming, Harry made his was back to the Leaky Cauldron, cursing the Slytherin for jumping to unfounded conclusions concerning Harry's intentions. Okay, maybe not completely unfounded, but Harry was in no mood to admit that.

Once inside the inn, Harry paused in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames.

"Do you want to Floo somewhere, young man, or are you just trying to get warm?" Tom, the owner, called over to Harry as Harry debated his next move.

Finally deciding, Harry turned to face Tom. "Do you have Floo powder?"

Tom pulled a container out from under the bar and placed in on the counter. "That'll be two knuts."

Harry handed over the money and dumped the contents of the container in his hand. Stepping back to the fireplace, he took a deep breath and tossed the powder into the flames. "The Burrow," he stated clearly and stepped inside the fireplace.

A moment later, Harry was tumbling out of a fireplace to land ungracefully at the feet of a very startled redhead.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing here?" Ron said, pulling his wand out and aiming it at Harry.

For a moment, Harry just gaped at his best friend, and then he remembered the glamour.

"Ron, it's me, Harry," Harry said as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. He started to raise his wand to remove the charm, but stopped when Ron took a menacing step forward.

"Harry is dead," Ron said flatly. "Just stay still while we call the Aurors. They can sort out who you are."

Harry sat on the floor, stunned at this turn of events. Draco had not covered this contingency. "Ron, it's just glamour. If you remove it, you'll see I'm telling the truth."

"I'll do it," Hermione said, walking into the room with an angry look on her face. "Then we'll turn you over to the Aurors." Hermione waved her wand and Harry shivered slightly as the glamour faded away.

"Oh my…Harry?" Hermione squeaked as she stared at him wide-eyed. Ron appeared to be doing an imitation of a fish-out-of-water, as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

Harry managed a wry grin. "Hey, Hermione, how did you like my disguise?"

Then both his friends were pulling him from the floor and hugging him. None of the three could make out what the others were saying as they all tried to talk at once.

Finally, Hermione let out a loud, piercing whistle, silencing the two boys.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, I don't think I'll be able to hear right out of that ear again," Ron said, rubbing the ear closest to Hermione.

Hermione ignored the comment and turned to Harry. "Harry, what happened? How did you get here? I thought you were dead."

"Yeah, mate. Hermione swore she saw you hit by the Killing Curse. We both thought you were dead," Ron added with a confused look. "We wouldn't have left you if we hadn't."

Harry looked from one friend to the other, unsure how to start. It had sounded so simple to explain when Mac had told him. "Uh, this might take awhile. Who else is here?"

"Just us, mate. Everyone else is at an Order meeting," Ron said.

"Except Ginny. She's staying at a friend's," Hermione added. "Oh, Harry, she's going to be ecstatic when she finds out you're alive. She's been so upset…well, we all have been, but you know what I mean."

Harry managed a weak smile as Hermione rambled. He felt guilty for not once thinking about Ginny and how his supposed death might have affected her.

"Well, start talking," Hermione demanded, pushing Harry over to sit on the couch.

"Uh, I'm not sure where to start," Harry said. Nervous, he reached up to adjust his glasses, and then realized they weren't there. One of the added benefits of being immortal was perfect vision.

"Well, what happened after we left?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, mate? How did you get out of the Death Eater house?" Ron asked from the chair were he was sprawled.

Harry took a deep breath before beginning. "Do you remember that Muggle we found there?"

Hermione shuddered. "The one they had tortured to death?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Well, it turns out he's an immortal and he got us both out."

"Wait, what do you mean, an immortal?" Hermione asked as Ron sat forward in his chair. "Don't tell me there's another Sorcerer's Stone?"

"No, I mean he was born an immortal," Harry said. "No matter how many times he dies, he comes back to life."

Hermione stared at Harry, her brow furrowed. "And he was able to bring you back as well?" she asked hesitantly, as if she thought Harry may be slightly delusional.

"No, I was born an immortal, too," Harry said, then held his breath as he waited for their response.

"Blimey, is that how you managed to avoid the Killing Curse when you were a baby?" Ron asked breathlessly.

Hermione's eyes flickered to Ron then back to Harry, waiting for an answer.

"No, if Voldemort had killed me then, I'd have been a baby for the rest of my life," Harry said. "It must have been like Dumbledore said and it was something my mom did."

"So, you're saying you can't be killed now?" Hermione said dubiously. "At all, ever?"

"Pretty much, yeah." As much as Harry trusted his friends, he didn't really want to go into the whole 'taking heads' business just yet.

"Harry…" Hermione started, but then trailed off, a mixed look of confusion and disbelief on her face.

"You believe me, don't you?" Harry asked, looking from Hermione to Ron and back again.

"It's obvious something happened, Harry," Hermione said in a bewildered tone. "But I've never heard of anyone being born immortal before. Not even Voldemort knew how to do that and I'm sure he read everything he could find on the subject."

"It's not like a potion or a spell you can do, Hermione," Harry said, starting to get angry. He had not expected his friends to doubt him. "It's something you're born with or not, just like magic. And the reason no one knows about it is that the immortals keep it to themselves, just like wizards keep our existence secret from Muggles."

"Hey, mate, I'm with you," Ron said, putting his hands up as if surrendering. He turned to Hermione who still looked doubtful. "We both saw that he was dead, Hermione. How else can you explain it?"

"I don't know," Hermione said doubtfully, looking at her hands as if the answer was there. When she looked up and saw the angry look on Harry's face, she gave a small cry and threw her arms around his neck. "It doesn't matter, Harry. All that matters is that you're here and you're still alive."

"I'll second that," Ron said with a grin.

All the anger that Harry had been feeling melted away as he returned Hermione's hug and grinned back at Ron over her shoulder. He knew they would understand.

"The watcher following Harry and Draco lost them after they left the hotel," Joe said, slamming his phone shut in frustration.

"You really should check into the training program at the academy," Methos said, shaking his head. "This younger generation just doesn't seem as capable."

"This from the man who spent his time with the Watchers doing research on himself," Joe replied dryly.

"But I was so good at it," Methos replied with an unabashed grin.

MacLeod rolled his eyes heavenward as if silently asking for strength.

Ignoring Methos' comment, Joe said, "I can't believe those boys are traveling together after the way they acted in Scotland."

"Better the enemy you know," MacLeod replied philosophically.

"Let's just hope that we can get to them before Lucius does," Joe answered. "Whatever temporary truce they've declared may not hold when Draco meets up with daddy dearest again."

CJ DeanPage 65/13/2007


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Draco strode angrily through the streets of London as he made his way back to the hotel. He berated himself for believing for even a moment that the Chosen One would forget six years of hatred and enmity. Harry had just been biding his time until Draco's guard was down and Harry had the means to capture and incarcerate his rival. Draco would never have suspected the Boy Who Lived would be capable of such subterfuge. It rankled that he had been out-maneuvered by a Gryffindor.

As he approached the hotel, Draco noticed a dark-haired man sitting at the bus stop across the street. Thinking back, Draco remembered that the man had been in the same spot when he and Harry had left the hotel. On further reflection, Draco recalled that he had seen the man several times as he and Harry had made their way to Diagon Alley. He had not been concerned at the time as the man did not generate an immortal buzz nor did he appear to be a wizard. Now, however, Draco became suspicious. Had the man followed them to the Leaky Cauldron but, having lost them there, returned here to wait for them to reappear?

Loitering at a storefront window, Draco watched the man surreptitiously. When the bus arrived a few minutes later, but the man remained in his seat, Draco was positive the man was waiting for either him, Harry or both.

Deciding that he needed to determine the man's intention, Draco slipped into a nearby alley and removed his glamour. He then casually strolled down the street, past the hotel and into a nearby store. He waited near the entrance until he saw the man had followed him inside, and then he headed out the back. When the man emerged into the darkened alley, Draco was waiting.

"Your lessons in following prey appear to be somewhat lacking," Draco said as the man stopped in surprise.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I came outside for a smoke," the man replied.

"By all means then, continue." Draco smirked as he watched the man try to light a cigarette with shaking hands. Draco almost laughed at the dumbfounded expressions that flitted across Farmer's face. A second-year Slytherin had more control than this man did.

Deciding he had talked enough to the dim-witted man, Draco stepped forward until he was staring the man in the eye. "You have been following me. I want to know why. _Legilimens_!"

The man stood still, his breath coming in short gasps as Draco stared into his eyes and searched for the memories that would explain the man's behavior. Once he had learned all that he could, he whispered softly, "_Obliviate_."

The man blinked a few times and then gave Draco a puzzled look. "What's going on?"

"You didn't look well, so I followed you into the alley," Draco lied smoothly. "Are you better now?"

The man nodded slowly, a confused look on his face.

"Perhaps you should go home and get some rest," Draco suggested. He was confident that the man, who's surname was Farmer, would have no memory of having followed him. Aunt Bella may have been insane, but she was a thorough teacher when it came to mind-magic.

As Farmer stumbled away, Draco sorted through the memories he had found. Farmer was a part of a group that called themselves Watchers. These men and women devoted their lives to observing immortals and recording their history. Apparently, Joe was a Watcher and had told Farmer where to find Draco. It seemed that Muggles had some way of tracking the credit card Draco had borrowed from Adam.

Draco clenched his teeth in anger. Not only had Joe set spies on him, but Adam must have also helped by giving him the credit card information. The only consolation Draco had was that Harry was being followed as well. Draco wondered how long it would take the oblivious Gryffindor to notice, not that it was any of his concern.

Draco spun around as a cat hissed nearby and ran down the alley and over the back fence. His heart gave a lurch as he recognized the figure that had startled the cat. "What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

Harry sat at the kitchen table while Hermione made sandwiches and Ron poured them something to drink. No place, except Hogwarts, had ever felt as much like a home to Harry as the Burrow did.

"You know, they planned your funeral for tomorrow," Ron said as he joined Harry at the table. "Won't everyone be surprised when you show up, still alive?"

"I don't think I can do that, Ron," Harry said hesitantly.

"Well, that would be an awful shock," Hermione agreed with a sour look at Ron. "When Ron's parents get back, I'm sure they'll know what to do."

"No, I mean, we can't tell anyone else," Harry said. "Just you two."

"What? Of course we have to tell everyone, Harry," Hermione exclaimed in a shocked voice. "It wouldn't be fair to let everyone grieve when you're not really dead."

"Yeah, mate. And Ginny… well, she's been waiting for you, you know," Ron added.

"I know people are upset, but…" Harry paused. "Look, the more people that know, the more chance there is of everyone finding out about immortals."

"Ginny isn't everyone," Ron said stubbornly.

"No, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore either," Harry said, trying to keep a lid on his temper. He really hated it when Ron dug his heels in and refused to budge on an issue.

"Harry, that's a cruel thing to say," Hermione scolded. "Ginny loves you. You may not be together right now, but that's just because of the Death Eaters and all. Now that that's over…"

"We're not getting back together," Harry said emphatically. Then relented a bit when he saw Hermione's shocked expression. "Look, it just wouldn't be the same now."

"Why, because you'll be young forever and she'll grow old and ugly?" Ron snapped.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Because I can't give her the things she wants, like a family."

Ron started to make a snide remark, but Hermione cut him off. "What do you mean, Harry? Why can't you have a family?"

Harry sank back into his chair, the reality of his situation sinking in a bit more. "How could we be together if no one can know I'm alive? Besides, immortals can't have children and Ginny deserves better than that."

Hermione nodded sadly, as understanding dawned. "And if we tell her you're still alive, she'll probably say none of that matters and want to be with you anyway."

Harry nodded. "But you know it will eventually. After all, she's a Weasley. Family is everything to them." Harry spoke to Hermione, but looked at Ron. "It would be better if she found someone else; even if that means letting her think I'm dead."

Ron had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "Blimey, Harry. This immortality stuff really sucks."

"Yeah," Harry agreed sadly. "Sometimes it really does."

Lucius gazed calmly at his fuming son as they entered Draco's hotel room. Lucius had many questions, but in Draco's present state of mind, it was unlikely that he would willingly provide any answers.

"I would remind you that you should never assume one is dead unless you have seen the body for yourself, but that hardly seems accurate under the present circumstances," Lucius said. "I don't suppose your mother is…?"

"She was not as fortunate as I," Draco snapped. He walked further into the room and then turned to face his father. "How did you find me?"

"Actually, I was following a Muggle who I had seen die several times," Lucius replied. As he talked, he gently probed Draco's mind. "Imagine my surprise when I saw that he had not only resurrected the Potter boy, but my own son as well. Would you care to explain?"

Draco glared back at his father. "Aunt Bella may be insane, but she is an adept Occlumency teacher."

Lucius smiled, hiding his frustration that not only had he been unsuccessful in penetrating Draco's mind, but Draco had caught him at it. "You have always been an excellent student," he said in praise. If Lucius could not get answers the easy way, then he would have to work past Draco's anger with him. "I would not be a Slytherin if I had not made the attempt though."

"As much as I am enjoying our scintillating conversation, it has been a rather long day," Draco said. "Perhaps we can finish our tête-à-tête another time."

"Draco… son… there is no need for this hostility between us," Lucius said, his tone oozing regret. "I acted as I did only out of self-preservation. If I had not, you would still have died and I would have joined you. The Dark Lord was a harsh master, but he is gone now. We can begin anew, but this time, we will be the masters."

"There can be only one master," Draco said pointedly. "I have no intention of being your servant."

"You will be my equal in every way," Lucius promised. While Draco may have lost his desire to please his father, Lucius was sure that Draco had not lost his desire for power. "Think of it, Draco," Lucius said in his most appealing tone, "we could become what the Dark Lord strove for, but could never reach; powerful, invincible, _immortal_."

"I'm already all those things," Draco replied with a smirk. "Why would I share what I have with the man who tried to kill me?"

"Your power is raw, untrained," Lucius said. "With my experience to guide you, no one would be able to stand in our way. The world is ours for the taking."

Draco gave his father a calculating look. "And it matters not that you are offering equality to a possible Mudblood?"

Lucius was taken aback by Draco's question. "I'm surprised your mother told you. It was she who found you in the gardens and insisted we raise you as our own."

"And she performed the blood-magic to make me look like a Malfoy," Draco added.

"She hoped that I would accept you if you appeared a true Malfoy," Lucius replied. He realized that he needed to take control of the conversation before he lost Draco completely. "Even if she had not, you are in all ways my son. As for your blood being pure, the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood. Such things are irrelevant in one of great power."

Draco laughed harshly. "How utterly Slytherin of you. You are willing to overlook my possible low birth in exchange for immortality."

Lucius sensed that, despite his protestation, Draco was weakening. "There is no one to stand in our way, my son. Together, we can rule all. The world will fall at our feet and worship us as gods."

Lucius waited patiently while Draco thought over the suggestion.

"You've betrayed me once to gain power," Draco said evenly. "How do I know that you won't do so again?"

"I was watching as you performed Legilimency on that Muggle in the alley," Lucius said. "I read his mind just as you did."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "That does not explain why I should trust you."

"Ask yourself, my son, why did this immortal resurrect you? Was he seeking a protégé?" Lucius asked, carefully gauging the impact of his words. "Or did he seek to gain power in this 'Game' the immortals play by creating a servant with the power he lacked; an immortal who is capable of magic?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of the Game?"

"Immortals kill other immortals to gain their power," Lucius said, confident that he was finally on the path to gaining his son's loyalty once again. He had seen only a little in the Muggle's mind, but with typical Slytherin cunning, he could guess what he did not know for sure. "You will be used as a pawn in this game, my son. Not to achieve your own ambitions, but to aid your benefactor - your new master - in achieving his."

"If I must choose between masters," Draco said with a smirk, "my gratitude should lie with my resurrector, not the one who took my life."

"What do you believe will happen once you gain enough power to become a threat to your new master?" Lucius asked. "He will take your life himself to obtain the power you have."

"Then why did he not kill me when he had the chance? Why let me leave?" Draco asked.

"He let you leave of your own accord to gain your trust, but he has his spies following you," Lucius said. "He has underestimated you, my son. Allow me to guide you in exacting your revenge for this slight."

Lucius felt triumphant as the smoldering anger reappeared in Draco's eyes, this time directed at another.

"I think I'd better put my glamour back on," Harry said as they returned to the living room, "just in case your parents come home before I leave."

Hermione nodded sadly. "It's going to be hard to continue acting as though our best-friend just died."

Ron grunted in agreement and then winced as Harry turned back into a blond. "Bloody hell, mate, you look like Malfoy."

Harry grinned at Ron's disgusted expression. If only Ron knew who had come up with the glamour originally. "Good disguise, huh?"

"I don't think I can talk to you like that," Hermione grumbled. She waved her wand and Harry felt a slight tingle as the glamour changed. Hermione gave a relieved sigh. "That's better."

Harry shook his head at his friend's attitudes. This probably would not be a good time to mention that Draco had become his traveling companion.

"So, what's the news about the Death Eaters? Have all of them been caught?" Harry asked.

"Most of the ones we knew about have been," Hermione replied. "Bellatrix is in custody. She'll be getting Kissed this time."

Harry smiled grimly. After what Bella had done to Sirius, Harry had no qualms about her impending fate.

"What about Snape?" Harry asked.

Hermione and Ron exchanged furtive glances. It was Hermione who spoke. "Snape turned himself in after they announced that Voldemort was dead. That's what the Order is meeting about. It seems that Dumbledore told Snape to kill him if it became necessary to keep his cover."

"And they believe him?" Harry growled.

"Dumbledore left a Pensieve memory behind that shows him telling Snape to do it. Dumbledore's portrait told Professor McGonagall where to find it," Hermione explained. "She kept it quiet until the war was over so that Snape could continue to spy for us without suspicion."

Ron snorted angrily. "Snape says he's the one that was sending you all those messages on Death Eater activity. Probably hoped we'd get killed in that final battle."

Hermione glared at Ron. "The Order believes him. They're meeting to prepare his defense at the Ministry."

"He should be getting Kissed," Ron said. "Too bad the Malfoys didn't survive. I'd like to have seen them Kissed too."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from arguing. He knew Ron was still angry over what had happened to Bill, but Harry felt that Draco had paid enough for that mistake. Having to live with the knowledge that your father killed you was worse than a Dementor's Kiss.

Thinking of Draco reminded Harry of the misunderstanding they'd had in the wand shop. He hoped that Draco would calm down by the time he returned to the hotel. Harry thought that they had made a start on something besides being enemies. Mac and Adam were nice enough, but they weren't wizards. Only Draco could truly understand what Harry had become. Their bond was one that no one else shared.

"I'd better be going," Harry said. "There's someone waiting for me back at the hotel." At least, Harry hoped Draco was there.

"Where will you go now? When will we see you again?" Hermione asked, tears in her eyes. Harry had only been back with them for a couple of hours. She did not want to lose him again so quickly.

"I don't know, but I'll owl you when I get there," Harry promised.

"Take care, mate. You know where to find us if you need anything," Ron said.

"I will," Harry promised. He wiped a few tears away from his own eyes as he Flooed back to the Leaky Cauldron.

When they arrived at the hotel, Joe went to talk to the watcher in the lobby while Methos cajoled a key-card from the woman at the front desk. Since his name had been used to pay for the room, he did not have too much trouble. He and MacLeod then rejoined a worried looking Joe.

"Baxter says Draco's back, but he's not alone," Joe said. "She hasn't seen Harry since they left together earlier. There should be a watcher outside as well, but I didn't see him as we came in."

"Who's with Draco?" Methos asked.

"Tall man, long white-blond hair, sound familiar?" Joe asked, looking at MacLeod.

"Lucius," MacLeod growled. "If Draco's father found them, Harry's probably already dead then. If they got wise to your watcher, he may be as well."

"We don't know that for sure," Methos said. MacLeod had a habit of jumping to conclusions based on gut feelings. "Harry was determined to see his friends. He and Draco may have parted ways before Lucius showed up. Your watcher could just be off getting some coffee."

"We'll see," MacLeod said. "Regardless, I have a score to settle with Lucius."

Methos grabbed MacLeod's arm to keep him from walking away and hissed in a low voice, "You know what Lucius is, MacLeod. You can't confront someone like him and walk away unscathed. If he's learned how immortals can die, then you won't walk away at all."

"What do you suggest, Methos? Live and let live?" MacLeod growled. "He may not be immortal, but he knows about us and he has no qualms about killing. I'm not going to walk away knowing I'll have to watch my back for the rest of his life."

Methos fumed silently. One day MacLeod's headstrong tendencies were going to get them both killed.

"Draco could be telling him all your deep, dark secrets as we speak," Joe said. "It he does, it could be like Horton all over again."

Methos had heard about the numerous immortal deaths that the Watcher, Horton, had been responsible for. He knew MacLeod would stop at nothing to prevent a similar killing spree from happening. The problem was that a wizard was far more dangerous than any normal mortal was. "Let me talk to him before you attempt any ill-conceived heroics," Methos said. "Let's at least figure out which side Draco is on. He may be as much a prisoner of his father as you were, Mac."

MacLeod did not look pleased with the idea, but gave a short nod. "I'll be standing outside the door in case anything goes wrong."

"You might need this then," Methos said, handing the key to the hotel room to MacLeod.

The three men took the elevator upstairs. Joe and MacLeod waited out of sight while Methos knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

"Pierson," Draco greeted coolly. "I thought you were taking a plane to someplace warm and sunny this morning?"

"I didn't get very far without my credit card," Methos said. He glanced around the room but saw no sign of Lucius. Perhaps the man had already left.

Draco walked over to the dresser to pick up the credit card he had borrowed. Flashing a disarming smile, he said, "Ah, an unforeseen difficulty. Now that I have access to my accounts, I will see that you are reimbursed for the expenses Harry and I accrued."

"Where is Harry?" Methos asked as he placed the credit card in his pocket. "We ran into an old adversary of his in Scotland. Mac insisted on coming here to warn you both." Methos noticed that Draco's gaze flitted around the room at the mention of an adversary.

Draco laughed shortly. "MacLeod would have fitted into Gryffindor house quite well. Brave to a fault, quick to action, but not a lot of forethought."

Methos had to laugh at the description. "That describes Mac perfectly. I would venture to say it describes Harry as well."

"The personification of the house," Draco agreed. "Slytherins are much more cunning." He gave Methos a sly grin. "I think you would have fit into my house quite well."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Methos replied with a grin back and then shifted topics abruptly. "Your father still wants the secret of immortality, doesn't he?"

"He would sell his soul to know how he can become immortal," Draco answered, "if he had one left, that is."

"Really, Draco, that was uncalled for," Lucius' disembodied voice chided from the far corner of the room. Both men waited, unsurprised, as Lucius disillusioned himself. "You must be Draco's benefactor," Lucius said graciously. "I am Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father."

Methos nodded politely as he replied, "Adam Pierson. By the way, Mac is quite irritated with you."

Lucius sighed dramatically. "Yes, I imagine he would be. The Dark Lord's methods were a bit heavy-handed. He need not fear such uncivilized behavior any longer. I'm sure that we can reach a resolution as gentlemen."

Methos noticed the slight tension in Draco's stance. After five-thousand years, Methos could read those minute changes in a person's demeanor as if he were reading a book. The boy was not as calm as he strove to appear. "What is it that you believe I can do for you?" Methos asked Lucius.

"I want the gift that you have bestowed on my son," Lucius replied. "There is much I have to offer in exchange."

Methos nodded slowly. Apparently, Lucius was not aware that immortals were born and Draco seemed to be encouraging that erroneous belief for reasons of his own.

"Father knows about the Game and how immortals gain each others powers," Draco added. "He would be a formidable ally, if you choose to trust him."

Methos leaned casually against the wall as he evaluated the situation. Lucius was easy to read. He wanted something and was willing to bargain to get it. Once he discovered that there was no bargain to be made however, he would strike out in anger at anyone near. Draco, however, was harder to figure out. Methos decided he would just have to keep them talking and hope that MacLeod would patiently remain outside.

"Can I trust you, Lucius?" Methos asked.

Lucius inclined his head slightly in Methos direction. "For the gift of immortality, I would willingly serve in whatever capacity you see fit."

Methos nodded thoughtfully. He noticed that the tension in Draco's shoulders eased somewhat. Whatever Draco's intentions, he seemed relieved that Methos was going along with it.

"Why, so you can become the next Dark Lord?" Harry snarled from where he stood in the doorway. "I don't think so. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

As soon as he heard Harry's voice, Methos dropped to the floor, expecting some rash action from the young man. Lucius dived to the side, avoiding the hex, while Harry charged into the room followed by MacLeod and Joe.

"_Accio wand!_" Draco cried out, taking Harry by surprise.

Seeing that Draco had taken care of Harry, Lucius pointed his wand at MacLeod. "_Incarcerous!_"

Joe pulled a handgun from inside his jacket and pointed it at Lucius. Before he could pull the trigger, Draco yelled, "_Accio weapon_!"

Lucius glanced at Joe, but decided he was unimportant now that he was unarmed. He turned to Harry and laughed maliciously. "So, the Boy Who Lived is now the Boy Who Lives Forever. How trite!"

Harry glanced over at Draco who was standing by the dresser holding Harry's wand. "I wasn't going to turn you in, Draco. You should know a Gryffindor keeps his promises," he said, hoping to re-establish the rapport that they had been building.

Lucius chuckled derisively. "Not turn over the one who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and precipitated the death of the Headmaster? How naïve do you think my son is, Potter?"

"The Death Eater that killed Dumbledore was already in Hogwarts," Harry snarled. "Draco's actions didn't change that."

Methos climbed slowly to his feet, careful to make no sudden moves. If he were lucky, Lucius would continue their dialog long enough for Methos to figure a way out of this mess.

"Methos," MacLeod growled from where he lay wrapped in thick ropes. "Do something."

"I am," Methos replied and then turned to Lucius. "I believe we were about to reach an agreement before we were interrupted."

"Don't trust him, Methos," MacLeod snarled. "He'll kill us all if he's given the chance."

"Your diatribe grows tiresome," Lucius said, pointing his wand at MacLeod. "_Silencio_!"

Methos' mouth quirked in a slight grin as MacLeod's mouth moved but no sound emerged. "I've wanted to do that for years."

"A man of reason," Lucius said with a smile. "An uncommon quality among Muggles."

"I am an uncommon man," Methos replied.

"It would be best to remove this threat before we continue, Father," Draco said as he walked over, his eyes on Harry.

Lucius nodded, a cruel smile on his face. "I shall allow you the pleasure, my son. I know that you have wanted this for some time."

"What about our truce?" Harry asked Draco.

Draco smirked as he stared into Harry's eyes. "Our truce was only until we were able to obtain wands again."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Then you'll kill me just like you did Browning."

Draco smiled. "Exactly." He looked at Methos who was watching them cautiously. "If I may borrow your sword, Pierson."

Methos noticed that the tension in Harry's frame had eased with Draco's answer. While he was not entirely sure of Draco's intentions, Harry seemed to be. He turned his attention to Draco. "It's kill or be killed time, is it?"

Draco nodded. "Just like you taught me. Take out the enemy while you can or he'll keep coming after you."

"An excellent piece of advice," Lucius said. "I'm glad my son has such a teacher."

Methos inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Methos, don't do this," Joe said. Before he could say more, Lucius silenced him as well.

Draco accepted the sword from Methos and then stood facing Harry. The two teens stared, unflinching, into each other's eyes.

Lucius stepped forward and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Avenge our Lord, Draco."

Draco raised the sword, handle gripped in both hands, tip pointed downward. "Vengeance," he said, then drove the sword backward as hard as he could into Lucius' body. As Draco turned, he pulled the sword free by ripping it sideways.

As Lucius fell to the floor, a stunned look on his face, Draco added softly, "Rest in Peace, Mother. Your death has been repaid."

"It looks like Farmer is going to be fine," Joe said as he joined the four immortals for a drink in the hotel lounge. "He doesn't even remember being told to follow the boys. After Draco planted that suggestion in his mind, he just went home and went to bed."

"Those who have been _Obliviated_ are easily susceptible to altered memories," Draco said.

"I'm not even going to ask what that means," Joe said, taking a healthy swallow of his beer. "I always thought wizards were just fantasies."

"But immortals are so pedestrian," Methos teased.

"Would either of you happen to know that silencing spell?" Joe asked with a meaningful look at Methos.

"I think we've had enough magic for one night," MacLeod said. "I'm just glad you two are on our side, although I'll admit that Draco had me fooled."

"I'm with Mac. I thought for sure Draco was going to kill Harry," Joe said then turned to Methos and added, "I can't believe you went along with it."

"It was obvious that the boys were planning something," Methos replied calmly. "Draco may be able to keep his emotions from showing, but Harry is an open book. He knew Draco wasn't going to harm him."

Harry looked surprised. "I was just hoping I understood what Draco meant. When we left Scotland, our truce was just until we had wands, but we had another after that. That's why I asked about Browning. Just to be sure I was right."

"A far more subtle method of questioning my intentions than I would have previously given you credit for, Potter," Draco noted.

"Who was Browning and how did he fit into all this?" Joe asked with a confused frown.

"He was an immortal that we ran into on our way to London," Harry swallowed hard. He still hadn't reconciled himself to killing the man. "He was going to take Draco's head even though Draco wasn't armed. It took both of us to knock him out, and then I took his head. It wasn't a fair fight, but he didn't give us much choice." Harry was relieved when the other men nodded in understanding.

"Then you were on our side all along?" Joe asked Draco.

"I'm on my own side," Draco reiterated with a smirk. "You lot just happened to have been a more palatable alternative."

"He just wants to keep me alive so that we're the last two in The Game," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Then he thinks he's going to take my head and get the prize."

Methos chuckled. "Every man needs a goal in life."

All three adults had noticed the lack of animosity between the two teens since they had met back up. One could almost say they had become friends. As a wise woman once said, there are some things you cannot share without ending up liking each other and, for Harry and Draco, defeating the man who had killed them both was one of them. 1

"So what are you two going to do with yourselves now?" Joe asked the teens.

Draco shrugged, while Harry looked thoughtful. "I hear that cruises can be quite relaxing," Harry said with a shy smile at Draco. "Lots of sun, blue water, lying by the pool with nothing to do but sip a cold drink…"

Draco slowly smiled back. "I suppose someone should go along to make sure your Gryffindor tendencies don't get you into trouble again."

"We did promise to protect each other," Harry said with an answering grin.

"That we did, Potter," Draco said with a genuine grin. "Until we're the last two standing."

Harry raised his glass as if toasting. "Until we're the last two standing," he echoed and they clicked their glasses together.

THE END

1 Paraphrased from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_, "There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other and knocking out a twelve foot mountain troll is one of them."

CJ DeanPage 105/13/2007


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